Nemesis: Phoenix Rising
by cruelangel101
Summary: A bizarre chain of event saves Anne Boleyn from the tower and she rises to power in France. Will her heart be chained to revenge or will she embrace a new destiny? When two powerful monarchs fight for one woman's heart, will it only lead to war? New and old alliances/enemies... Nemesis rewrite detailed summary inside.


**Title: Nemesis – Phoenix Rising**

**Author:** Cruelangel101

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing...Not the characters, not the show, and certainly not the production company…can anyone own history?

**Detailed Summary:** She watched her husband, the man she loved, murder four innocent men in order to set her aside. Her heart turned to ice as she received news of the King signing her death warrant and making their only daughter a bastard. Just when everyone thought things were set in stone, Anne Boleyn found herself pregnant with King's child. Many thought she was saved, but the King was still enraged and determined to marry his newest interest, Jane Seymour, and chose to believe the child was not his son. With the execution determined to proceed, an unexpected family member rescued her from the tower. Her life as Anne Boleyn was gone, but in the most bizarre chain of events she was reborn and rose again, this time as the Queen of France. In England, Jane Seymour becomes Queen. With Anne's heart cold from betrayal and filled with a thirst for revenge, what would the future hold? Can new warmth melt her cold heart or will the past spark ignite once more? This time when two men battle for her heart, the consequence is war. (My take on Anne as the "Queen of France")

**Pairings:** Anne/Francis I; Anne/Henry VIII; Jane/Henry VIII

A big thanks to my awesome beta, **Audriel**, who although very busy at the moment, chose to stick with me despite my year long hiatus.

Nemesis…the Greek goddess of revenge…

* * *

**Chapter 1: Rebirth**

_**From the ashes of a blazing fire the Phoenix is reborn.**_

_The crowd outside was chaotic, shouts came from every side, but she had only one thing on her mind. No matter how difficult or how painful it would be, she had to see it. She owed them that much. With some effort, she managed to drag a large wooden trunk to the window and climbed on top of it, watching the scene from her cell. Her vision was not perfect, slightly hindered by the X shaped bars of the window, but she could still see…see every detail of the execution…_

_They brought out her brother first. Poor innocent George caught up in the hatred of the King, all because her husband who had once loved her now hated her. She had once arrogantly promised him a son, but she had failed to deliver on that promise. It had not all been her fault though, but that hardly mattered anymore. _

_George shook slightly as he faced the crowd. He was no doubt scared of his coming fate. It hurt to see the crowd jeering at him, pointing their thumbs down and screaming "traitor". He didn't deserve that. He had betrayed no one, but she didn't blame the crowd. The charges against him had been completely false, yet the courts had found him guilty because everyone knew it was the will of the King. The crowd didn't know George personally, so how could she expect them to realize that the court had been unjust? Besides, in these days, the crowds almost always had a thirst for bloodshed._

_She watched silently as he made a speech to the crowd, but the words fell on deaf ears. The cry for blood had already consumed his audience. She wished she could have heard what he said, her brother's last words, but the crowd was too loud. It wasn't fair that her brother's last pleas of innocence would not be heard. Then again, nothing in this whole sordid affair was fair._

_Before she knew it, the executioner had already placed George on the chopping block and pulled back his white shirt. Her heart sped up…there, another sharp pain in her heart, her throat turned dry, and a there was a sudden pressure around her eyes, but she had to watch. She just had to… He was her brother._

_The executioner aimed the axe before George's neck several times, practicing his strokes. Then there was silence… She could see the crowd's mouths open in what was no doubt triumphant screams, but she could hear nothing… She could only see the axe swinging in the air. Then there was a lot of red… George was gone with one solid swing. Her brother, the one who had comforted her when she had been at her wits' end, the one who had teased her relentlessly growing up, the one who grew up playing with her, was gone. She would never hear his laughter or his teasing again. It was almost incomprehensible to her… He was in two pieces, robbed of his life by one signature from her husband. She could only continue to watch in horror as the executioner used his leg to push George's body aside. The body fell slowly in her eyes; she imagined it made a thumping noise as it hit the cold ground…_

_She lost her resolve to watch all four executions then and there. She screamed, clutching her chest, unable to stand any longer. She cried. She screamed, the tears flooding her eyes, finally she let the past months' feelings out. Her heart felt like it was trampled by a million horses, pain beyond anything she had ever felt. She couldn't breathe anymore. As she gasped for breath, her cries continued. She didn't care who heard her, the composure required of a Queen be damned._

…

_Cranmer was fidgeting as he strode about the room. She knew something was wrong, but what more could the man she loved do to her now? He had ordered her execution. He had murdered four innocent men. She had seen her own brother's death. It was her fault they all had to die, wasn't it? If only she had given birth to a son, they would have been all safe then. _

"_My Lady, I am obliged to tell you, that your marriage to the King has been declared null and void." He could not even face her when he spoke._

_She heard herself ask immediately, "On what grounds?" _

_Crammer still could not face her, "On the grounds of your close and forbidden affinity to another woman, known carnally by the King."_

_She didn't know whether to laugh or cry; she felt another stab of pain on her heart. Henry had been crueler than she had thought possible. "My sister," the answer easily occurred to her. Her lips twitched ever so slightly. She suddenly became very aware of each beat of her heart… with every beat she felt that sharp pain… again and again, "Then my daughter is…"_

"_Yes, Elizabeth is to be declared a bastard," Cranmer told her softly. His voice reached out as if to comfort her. She could hear his sorrow and regret. _

_She closed her eyes, feeling it difficult to breathe again. She couldn't face this anymore. Why? Why did he have to be so cruel? She had loved him. She had loved him with her whole being, yet he had thrown their love away for some whore. He was too cruel to not even let her die with hopes that Elizabeth would be safe. He wanted that whore's children to have a clear path to the throne, just like he had once wanted for their children. It was ironic. What she had once won from Katherine, she was now to lose to another woman. _

_Despite everything, she forced herself to stand up straight, composing herself with the dignity of a Queen. She would show no weakness to Kingston, whom is to report her every action to the King._

"_Madame, I swear to you, I will do everything in my power to support and protect her." Crammer approached her and finally brought the courage to face her as he finished, "And to keep her always in the King's good and kind graces."_

"_Thank you," she didn't need to say that to him, her eyes had already spoken of her gratefulness. "And now since my time approaches, I beg your grace to hear my confession." _

_As Cranmer led her to the center of the room for the confession, Kingston made his attempt to leave in order to give them privacy, but she turned and quickly stopped him, "Also, I should like the constable present when I receive the good lord." She wanted him to report her confession to the King, her final declaration of innocence before she met her maker._

_Kingston bowed and obliged her, "Madame."_

_Cranmer took a seat as she knelt before him, her head bowed, "My child, do you have a confession?" he asked softly._

_She had her head bowed, but she spoke as she lifted her head and looked Cranmer straight in the eyes, "I confess my innocence before god. I solemnly swear on the damnation of my soul that I have never been unfaithful to my lord and husband, nor have ever offended with my body against him."_

_She chose her words carefully, for even now, when the King had already taken everything from her, he could still do much damage to her surviving family. She could not risk angering him with her words no matter how she truly felt about the matter, "I do not say that I have always bore the humility towards him of which I owed him, considering the kindness and great honor he showed me and the great respect he always paid me. I admit too that I have often taken it into my head to be jealous of him." She paused for the slightest of moments, recalling her fits of jealousy. She had only been jealous because she had loved him so greatly, if she had not fallen in love with him, then she could have easily turned a blind eye. _

_She took a deep breath and continued, "But god knows and as my witness, I have not sinned against him in any other way." _

_How could he think that of her? "Think not I say this in the hopes of prolonging my life. God has taught me how to die and He will strengthen my faith." Her voice cracked ever so slightly here. "As for my brother…" she had to take another moment to collect her voice. She couldn't help but feel that sharp stab of pain again at the thought of her poor brother that the King had murdered. "…and those others who were unjustly condemned. I would have willingly suffered many deaths to deliver them. But since I see it pleases the King, I will willingly accompany them in death. With this assurance…" tears had formed in her eyes again as her throat went dry, "that I shall lead an endless life with them… in peace." Indeed, she had come to accept her fate and would welcome the peace that death brought. She bowed her head again, having finished her confession. _

_The soft cries of her ladies could be heard in the brief silence. She briefly wondered if they were crying for her because they will come to miss her and regret her death. She had not been a popular Queen. Her coronation had a chilly reception at best. Despite not being liked, it was not to say that she had had no allies. She had her share of them especially on her rise to the top, but they had all abandoned her now whether willingly or under pressure. _

_Cranmer took a deep breath before drawing a cross on her forehead, "Master Kingston, please go and make sure to report my lady's last confession so the world will know it."_

_The man stood up and bowed, "I will." _

Anne's heart continued to feel the pain like it was being torn to pieces, but this time the pain didn't stop at her chest but traveled down until a sharp pain made her clutch her stomach in fear as she felt warm liquid running down her legs. The room shifted and became distorted as her head started to feel ever so light. The last thing she remembered was Master Cranmer rushing to her side, yelling "Quick fetch a physician," then everything went black.

* * *

_**May 17th, 1536, Palace of Whitehall**_

Henry Tudor, the King of England, stared at Thomas Cromwell unblinkingly. He repeated what he had heard over and over again in his mind, but he just could not comprehend it. It was nearly impossible to wrap his mind around the news. How could it happen? Well, he knew how it could happen, but why now? After everything he had gone through to get rid of her, why was it only now that she came forward with news that would have made him the happiest of men but a year ago. Yet now, he rather found the news to be a heavy burden; it put an unwanted delay in his plans to marry his sweetheart, the woman, no angel, who God had finally gifted him with.

Master Cromwell sighed. He had arisen far in Court due to his ability in reading the King. It was an ability that he was rather proud of. It was true that he had a falling out with Anne Boleyn over some particular matters, but that alone was hardly enough reason to make an enemy out of her so drastically. He knew what the King wanted perhaps even better than the King cared to admit to himself. He was the King's loyal servant, and as such it was his mission to bring about the change that would grant his lord's desires. So he had moved against her, bringing a conclusive end to a debatable marriage and thus freeing the King to marry another of his choice. With Anne Boleyn dead, no citizen of England, no matter which wife they supported in the past, could deny the rights of sons by the King's newest wife. The whole messy affair of the King's first two marriages should have ended in a day, but now it was as if God decided to play a cruel joke on them all. Anne Boleyn was pregnant.

If it was known before the trial that she was pregnant, no trial would have ever taken place. The King would never have tolerated any slander to his pregnant wife's name. Even if the pregnancy had been announced just a few days ago, things could have been salvaged. There would have been tension at court for awhile, but at least no long lasting damage had been done, no lives lost yet. But now, after the execution of the four convicted men, things were set in stone. To allow Anne Boleyn to live now would be the same as admitting that the King and the Court had been wrong, an action they could ill afford in these years especially after such drastic changes in England. Not to mention, what position could she hold if she was to live? With the mere fact that she lived, it would always cast a shadow over any marriage the King sought and brought doubt over the legitimacy of the King's future children, especially if she now bore the King a son. He internally grimaced at the thought of her being placed back in the position of Queen for the sake of the child. No power on this Earth could reverse the fact that four men had died, one of them being her brother. There would be hell to pay if she was restored to power. No doubt she would demand the blood of her enemies in repayment.

Her restoration was not something he wanted to chance. He had made himself her enemy irreversibly. With her restoration, it would not only mean his fall from grace but could bring many dangers to his family. Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk and the Seymour family would not come out unscathed either. Even more lives would be lost, far more than if Anne Boleyn was just simply executed.

"Lady Anne is with child. She almost had a miscarriage the day prior but the tower physician was able to manage a save," Cromwell repeated in a monotone. He couldn't help but wish that the lady really did have a miscarriage. That way, at least their plans could proceed unhindered.

The King blinked again, completely dumbfounded still, "She is carrying _their bastard_?" he finally hissed after another moment of tense silence. Henry could feel anger beginning to boil in his veins again. He clenched his teeth in a snarl at the thought of the child possibly being a product of incest. The idea disgusted him beyond belief.

For his part, Cromwell was most relieved to hear that the King had given no hints about sparing or restoring her. However, regardless of what he believed must be done for England and despite what the King felt for the woman, they indeed had a major problem on their hands, "Your Majesty, under English law, we cannot execute a pregnant woman."

A small voice in his head reminded Cromwell that the child in question could very well be the King's son. Anne was certainly no friend of his any longer, but he didn't think he could allow the murder of an innocent child with royal blood. Yet the fact of the matter is, should it be a boy, he would forever pose a threat to the King's other male heirs by the new Queen. But there were other ways to ensure the child was out of the way, exile for example. Besides, Anne Boleyn was not of a position where other powers of Europe would challenge the throne of England for her child. They'd more likely support the Lady Mary over any son she had. With the mother dead and forgotten, her children would come to worship the King as their only parent, and be molded into loyal subjects who would never question their bastard status.

There was a long pause of silence, before the King made his decision. It was not a decision that Henry was at all happy to make. He had waited so long for a son and the idea of needing to wait longer enraged him. This was entirely the whore's fault.

* * *

_**May 18th, 1536, Tower of London**_

"Your execution has been delayed until after the birth of your child, Madame," Master Kingston told the Lady in a neutral voice.

Anne merely lifted a delicate brow in response. She was not one to show any weakness in front of Kingston. She had come to accept her fate, no longer afraid of what death brings, but she felt great regret at not having the chance to watch her children grow. A hand unconscious strayed to rest on her stomach. Her poor children would lose their mother so early in life. Who would protect them from all the dangers that their unstable positions would bring?

"And what will happen to the child after my execution?" She wondered if he would be sent to live with Elizabeth.

Kingston gave her a hard look before responding, "The King has decided that he has no responsibility in caring for the bastard child of his old mistress. The child is to be turned over to your father, the Earl of Wiltshire should he accept the responsibility."

Anne flinched at the words bastard and mistress. She felt a burning fire in the pit of her stomach. It angered her greatly to hear that Henry didn't even believe that he was the father of their child. He was being foolish and blinded by his own pride. For years he had prayed for a son. Ironically, now that it was a possibility again, he was just going to let his deepest desire slip through his finger.

Behind the bubbling anger, Anne also felt an increasing feeling of deep worry and dread for her unborn child. Elizabeth was declared a bastard, but she was still the acknowledged daughter of the King. As the natural daughter of the King, even though she is now a bastard in name, she would still be given some degree of respect and have a certain station in society. However, if Henry believed their unborn child was the offspring of one of the men that was executed as a traitor, then the future of the child was bleak indeed. He was not only a bastard in name, but also the child of two 'traitors.'

* * *

_**June 1st, 1536, Hever Castle**_

"You have already watched George, your only son, be murdered by the King's lust, you cannot just watch her be killed. Are you not our father? Is it not your responsibility to shelter and protect your children? What good will ever come to you when you come to the end of your life with all of your children gone? Surely, you can't have forgotten that if it had not been for you, Anne would have been married happily to Henry Percy. If it had not been your ambition, both of them would have been safe and alive today," his daughter's words struck a chord in his cold heart.

His eldest daughter had always been a kind and passionate woman. She was someone who followed her heart rather than her mind. She never understood that sometimes there was just no happily ever after unlike the fairytales that she was so attached to. His youngest daughter had been so different from her elder sister. In the beginning she had been so much like himself. Her mind was sharp, and she was so very clever. Yet in the end, her heart had won over her mind, and it brought an end to what would have been a glorious reign amongst the peerages of England for the Boleyn and Howard families.

Despite his every effort, he had ended with nothing. His son, his only heir, was executed as a traitor. His youngest daughter was awaiting her own execution pregnant with a child that the King refused to acknowledge. He was not really on speaking terms with his eldest daughter. Finally, despite being allowed to keep his title, he now had zero standing at court, having become the laughing stock of England.

Yet what could he do for his youngest daughter? He had no power and no longer had any connections that would get her spared. Any attempt he made for Anne now would only serve the purpose of angering the King further. Not only would it not make any difference for Anne, but he could lose what little he had now. He had no desire to bring the wrath of the King down upon his remaining family. He would lose his home, his title, his right to raise his soon to be grandchild. Anne's fate was already sealed, could he risk the stability and well-being of his wife, his aging mother and his future grandchild for something he had no power to change?

But he had always been a resourceful man hadn't he? Could he really think of no way to both protect his family and save his daughter? He owed her that much after all. He had little help in England now, but perhaps in the land that he had once called home for many years he could find safety for her.

* * *

_**December 15th, 1536, Tower of London**_

She had spent seven months in hell, seven months in the tower of London. Given the conditions of the tower, it had been a miracle that she was able to carry the child to term, let alone have a healthy delivery. The delivery process itself had been relatively quick but nevertheless, she still felt exhausted as she leaned against the bed holding her son in her arms.

Her son…what an inopportune moment he chose to enter the world. If he had been born only a year earlier, he would have been hailed as the Prince of Wales. His birth would have made his sister and his mother forever safe, no enemies would ever dream of uttering a word against the mother of the future King of England. However, her poor boy was not so lucky. Instead of being an acknowledged prince, he was now nothing more than a bastard and even worse he was unacknowledged by the King.

Despite her dismay at what the future held for her son, the boy in question was completely unaware of his less than ideal position in society. He was contentedly asleep in his mother's arms, soaking up the warmth that his mother had to offer and displaying a carefree nature that only infants were capable of.

He was a little smaller and lighter than Elizabeth had been, but nevertheless, he appeared to be healthy in Anne's eyes. His cheeks were flushed and his breathing even. His hair was blond like his elder sister, and while Elizabeth took on many of Anne's qualities and features, he looked a great deal like his father.

The image of Henry brought a pang of sorrow in Anne's heart. It had been months since she heard anything about him. While she was in the tower fighting to deliver their son safely, he was no doubt having a grand time with his whore, Jane Seymour.

Master Cranmer had once confided to her that Henry had every intention of marrying the whore, but the wedding was not to proceed until after her execution despite the fact that their union had already been declared invalid. Anne understood why. Henry was not taking any risks this time with regards to the legitimacy of his future children. The troubles that they had gone through to ensure that Elizabeth was recognized as his legitimate heir before Mary had caused much bloodshed. It was a stain that would be blamed on Anne and perhaps in extension even on Elizabeth. However, Jane would be the one to truly gain the benefits. With both Katherine and herself gone, no one would question the validity of the marriage between Henry and Jane and thus all of their children would be unquestionably the legitimate children of the King. Even better, the Seymour name would not be stained from the blood of the oath.

"Have you chosen a name for him, My Lady?" the voice of one of her ladies pulled her out of her thoughts.

Anne looked down at the infant in her arms. He looked so much like his father that for the briefest of moments she considered naming him after the King. Then reality settled in and she remembered all the pain that the man had brought upon them, not to mention he had murdered her brother, her son's maternal uncle. That in itself was unforgivable.

She remembered that while she was pregnant with Elizabeth, Henry had mentioned wanting to name his son Edward; however, she had little affinity towards it. Besides with Henry not believing the child is his son, there was no guarantee that he wouldn't take the name of either Henry or Edward as a mockery.

So what would be a good name? Elizabeth had been named after both of her grandmothers. Of her son's grandfathers, there was Henry and Thomas. Henry was already out of the question, and Thomas did not feel right. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't forget that moment when her father walked out of the tower without a single acknowledgment toward her. Then there was also George, but that seemed far from a good idea given the circumstances in the recent months. Henry would likely take the name of George as evidence that the child was the product of an incestuous union. So what were her choices? Her own grandfather was named William. It was the name of two past Kings. William I of England had been a bastard, and despite everything he rose beyond that label and became King. While Anne did not view her son as a bastard, she could not change the fact that the label had already been placed upon his head. Her hope for her child was he too could rise beyond the limitations that the label brought.

"William," she tried the name on her tongue and it felt right, "His name is William."

* * *

_**December 16th, 1536, Palace of Whitehall**_

"Lady Anne has given birth to a boy," Master Cromwell informed the King in a neutral voice despite the unease he felt at hearing the news. If it had been a daughter, everything would be so much easier. A daughter would be no threat against any future sons by the new Queen, but a son was completely different. If it was known that he was the King's son, he would forever be a rival to the throne for his future half brother due to the questionable nature of the union between the King and his first two 'wives'.

Henry for his part didn't know how to respond. It felt like mockery to hear that Anne had finally given birth to a son, something he had so desperately craved from her. For her, he had gone against everyone, broke away from the Church in Rome despite heavy foreign and domestic opposition, and ordered the execution of hundreds just so her daughter would be recognized as heir. For her, his relationship with his daughter Mary was in shambles. He gave her everything, more rich and magnificent jewels than anyone else at Court. He raised her from a lowly knight's daughter to the Queen of England. All he had ever wanted in return was that she delivered on her own promise of giving him a son.

She had failed him. She had promised him a son but she had not kept her word. All he had to show for their union was another daughter, making him the laughing stock of Europe. Then, as if to rub salt over his wounds, she betrayed him by having affairs with other men, her own brother included. Worst of all, she had lied about her virginity. For years she had refused him of her bed, claiming that it was for her virtue. That had hardly been the case. She played him, intending to elevate his desires for her by refusing him, an action no lady had done before. It hurt to think that the love that he thought was pure and true was nothing more than a stepping stone for the elevation of her and her family's social status. It hurt more than anything to realize that he was used by her for her familial gains, to know that she never loved him like he loved her.

Her betrayals infuriated him and he wanted revenge against her for all the years he had wasted for her. If it wasn't for her he might have already been a father of many princes. Yet that initial blinding fury had settled in the recent months. He still hated her for everything she had done. He could never forgive her for her lies and actions, but he no longer desired to spill her blood.

She may be a whore that had relations with many men, but she was still the mother of their daughter. Indeed, when he had felt a blazing anger for the woman he had once loved, he had once remarked that Elizabeth was Henry Norris's bastard daughter. But that had been anger talking. He didn't really believe that. In his heart he knew that Elizabeth was his daughter, albeit a bastard. He was fond of the little girl and didn't want to deprive their daughter of her mother.

"And how is she?" he asked despite promising himself before that he would never care about her welfare again. Yet he couldn't help but ask.

Cromwell internally cringed. He did not like the hesitant tone of the King. He knew that the initial rage of the King had settled greatly, and as such the King was no longer prone to making rash decisions. For weeks now, Cromwell had suspected that the King may be in the mood to spare Lady Anne, perhaps sending her to a nunnery or placed under house arrest for the rest of her natural life instead of the planned execution. Neither option appealed at all, "Master Kingston has reported that she is recovering well and should be ready for her execution in a week or two."

Henry flinched ever so slightly, an action that did not go unnoticed by Master Cromwell. There was a moment of silence before anyone spoke again, "Have you sent for the French executioner again?" Henry asked. He had hired the man from France the first time she was to be executed for her crimes. The executioner had much experience and used a sword such that it was rumored the person would not feel pain. However, before they could make use of the executioner, news of her pregnancy was announced and the executioner was paid for his troubles and sent back to France.

"Yes, three days prior," Cromwell answered quickly, "I understand that Your Majesty would wish for no more delays to your impending nuptials." This was a subtle reminder to the King of the importance of Anne's execution.

The hint was not lost of the King. Henry nodded numbly. He understood Cromwell's worry perfectly. While it was true that his heart had softened slightly toward her, and he no longer desired to paint the ground red with her blood, but her death was a political necessity. With her alive, his marriage to Jane could come under question by some subjects. He wanted no one to doubt the legitimacy of his future children; he had learned his lesson with Elizabeth's succession rights.

Jane was a true and pure maiden. She was everything good and sweet in the world. He has been blessed to have finally found her and could only mourn for the time lost between them because of Anne. He owed it to Jane to give her a clean slate. Their sons and daughters would be his only legitimate heirs.

"Very well, please inform Kingston to see to her every comfort in her last days. Schedule the day after she has fully recovered," this would be the last kind act he would do for her before he placed her forever in the past. Anne had played with fire, and this was a price she must pay.

* * *

_**December 17th, 1536, Tower of London**_

"My Lady?" the woman asked again. Today was the decided upon date when William was to go to Hever Castle. Everything was readied for the infant's journey, except for the fact that the ladies had a difficult time parting mother from son.

Anne was clutching the baby boy tightly to her chest. Her eyes were wide as she unconsciously backed away from the ladies who would take away her son. She had had only two days with him and that was far too short.

"My lady, it is time," the lady sent to retrieve the child repeated for what must have been the tenth time, this time a hint of annoyance could be heard in her voice, "the King demands that he be removed to his grandfather's home. Surely, My Lady understands that the tower is no place for an infant?"

Anne shook her head, "One more day," she pleaded with them despite knowing that they had no authority to grant her request, "Please." A few drops of tears rolled down and landed on William's right check. The sudden wetness seemed to startle him as he fussed slightly in his mother's arms but quickly settled again.

The lady shook her head as well, "I am truly sorry, my lady, but I have my orders," she pulled the child from Anne's grasps with the help of two other ladies. The effect on the infant was nearly instantaneous. The moment he was torn from his mother's warmth, William screamed at the top of his lungs.

Hearing her son's distress, Anne lunged for the child but it was to no avail as she was securely held back by more ladies.

The Lady curtsied, "I promise to deliver him safely," she managed to tell Anne against the loud wails of the babe. It was the only promise that she could make to the equally distressed mother before she made a quick exit out of the chamber.

* * *

_**December 19th, 1536, Tower of London (Late night)**_

She felt like she couldn't breathe. There was smoke everywhere. She had been aroused by the loud commotion outside minutes before and found her chamber quickly filling with thick black smoke. Terrified, she had run to the door screaming for help but no one answered and the doors remained locked.

Anne feared fire, especially after the dreams she had had with Mary burning her at the stake. This was like her nightmare come true. Her skin felt hot and dry. Was it her imagination or could she hear the flames crackle outside? The air was too thick and she found herself coughing non-stop. The last thing she thought she remembered was a loud _BANG_, then some men shouting before everything went black.

* * *

_**December 20th, 1536, Palace of Whitehall**_

"She is dead?" King Henry VIII of England asked Thomas Cromwell, scarcely believing what he was hearing. He had ordered her execution but that was not for another few weeks, "How?" Had not Cromwell just informed him mere days ago that she was recovering well from her pregnancy?

Cromwell actually mirrored the King's confusion. The recent turns of events seemed hardly plausible. He knew that Anne had many enemies, and many recently have started fearing that before her scheduled execution the King would have a change of heart. This fear was not without basis. With months after the trial, any initial rage would have subsided. The King was now more prone to view the matter more logically. With her still alive, it helped remind the King from time and time again to think back on the events. It was most likely only a matter of time before the King started to soften enough to spare her life and eventually perhaps even doubt the verdict itself. No one could forget how much trouble the King had gone through in order to marry Anne Boleyn, and no one could forget how much obsession and passion the woman had once inspired from many men. Such intense emotions didn't suddenly disappear and no enemy of the woman wanted the passion to rekindle.

However, no matter what her enemies feared, he had not expected any to actually take matters into their own hands. Her execution was only short weeks away and it would be unlikely that the King would change his mind before it. After the execution he would forever believe in her guilt simply because he would not be able to bear the thought that he had been wrong. But now things are different. Her recent death wasn't due to execution for High Treason, but was the result of cold blooded murder.

Master Cromwell pulled out the half burnt note delivered from the tower, "Master Kingston suspects that it had been a group of hired mercenaries. The guards were able to kill a few of them but they had been caught completely by surprise. They had thought the fire was the result of an accident and by the time they had realized otherwise, it had been too late. They left this note beside the body." He handed the note to the King with a bow.

The King took the note into his hand and studied it silently. The edges of the cheaply made parchment had already been burnt off, but the messy scrawl was still distinguishable. In the center of the parchment were 7 simple words, 'The witch must burn for Queen Katherine,' of which caused a deep scowl to appear on the King's face.

"Katherine," the King mumbled in barely contained anger. He had once wanted to marry Katherine despite all the warnings his advisers gave. He had thought he loved her but in reality he wanted her because she was promised to and eventually married to his brother. As the second son of the royal family, it was Arthur who was expected to be King and he was meant for the Church. He grew up seeking his parents' attentions and found himself often jealous of Arthur. So while saddened by his brother's death, he had been happy to become the new Prince of Wales, the next King of England. Securing the prestigious marriage meant for his brother seemed like a perfect way to show that he was meant to be King. Besides, he had always been a chivalrous man and seeing the poor conditions that Katherine had been forced to live with, he had automatically wanted to protect to her.

Their supposed marriage had been happy at first, but with a string of miscarriages and with nothing to show but a single living girl, he had finally opened his eyes to the truth. He had lived in sin with his brother's wife. The blow had been a heavy one as so many years were wasted. He should be a grandfather by now, yet he only had two daughters.

He had thought God had given him a second chance by introducing him to Anne, but what a mistake that had been. She never loved him. She loved the power and position that their union brought to her and her family. Yet no matter how much she had hurt him, he had once truly loved her. Their union, despite being untrue, had linked them together. She had betrayed him and for that she must pay for her crimes; however, he would not tolerate anyone else laying a hand on her. These men had no right to murder a peerage of the Realm.

"Have you arrested these men?" he asked Cromwell harshly.

Master Cromwell shook his head, "I am afraid that we have not located this group. From articles found on the men killed by the Tower guards, we can make the assumption that this group has a history of protesting the reformation of the Church. However, they have never revealed their identities thus making the action of finding them nearly impossible." At the end of his speech, Master Cromwell was forced to make a quick movement in order to duck the copper bin the King chucked at him in fury.

"Find them, and execute them," Henry hissed in a tone that allowed for no more argument.

Cromwell sighed and bowed. He understood. The King was feeling guilty and looking for someone to blame. Fate had not been on their side. If only she had died as she was supposed to, she would have been forgotten and only ever known as a guilty whore in the King's heart. He could only hope that everyone would at least have sense enough to never bring up any inconsistencies in her trial. He could only shutter to imagine what the King would do now if he came to believe in her innocence.

For now, he could certainly find someone to take the fall, and put all of this behind them quickly. The faster they moved on, the quicker they can forget all of this mess.

* * *

_**May 19th, 1537, Picardy, France**_

France was at war. This was of course not news as it has been ongoing for months, but what was disturbing was that Charles V, the Holy Roman Emperor had just sacked Paris a few days earlier. The fate of the French royal family was still largely unknown. The news had spread like wildfire through France, and Picardy being a provenance close to Paris was in disarray for the people were in a state of panic.

Despite her physical safety being threatened, she could not make herself care. In fact she cared for very little these days. She still remembered that fateful day five months ago like it had happened yesterday. The commotion outside her room had been caused by a group of hired mercenaries. Instead of harming her, they rescued her. At the time, she could scarcely believe that her father had been the one behind the rescue. She still couldn't shake her last memory of him walking coldly out of the Court yard of the Tower, not sparing her a single glance. She had thought he had resigned to abandon both her and George. She had thought he was ashamed of them, but he knew better than to believe those lies. So it had been a surprise to learn who was behind the rescue.

She still remembered the terror she felt when she first woke up. By then, they had already traveled far from the tower in a carriage. Her kidnappers had not explained anything initially. She had fought them, but they subdued her quickly. It was not until they placed her on a ship sailing for France that she finally understood what was going on. Her explanation came in the form of a letter from her father. She had scarcely believed what she was reading. She didn't want to leave England because it signified leaving her children behind, likely forever. She understood the second the boat sailed; she was unlikely to set foot in England again. However, she also understood that she had no choice; her fate was sealed in England.

She did not see her father for he was busy securing an alibi for himself. The letter had explained that her death would be faked. For all that is concerned, Anne Boleyn was burned to death by her enemies. In the eyes of England she would be gone. She had been rather amused by the cause of death. Burning had indeed been her greatest fear. It was a cruel death for anyone, and no doubt when the news traveled, there would be more sympathy for Anne Boleyn's memory. Hopefully, that sympathy would be extended to her children.

Her new life had also been decided for her. Thomas Boleyn had a friend in France, a man by the name of Guillaume de Pisseleu, who was of the nobility in Picardy, France. Thomas Boleyn, in his days as the English Ambassador to France, had upon chance saved the man's life, and in return, Guillaume had agreed to house her as Anne de Pisseleu, his daughter that had recently passed away.

Guillaume de Pisseleu had married three times and from these marriages had an array of children. Many of the children had died young, but it was enough that the town was not all familiar with the girls in the family, making her transition much easier. She now had three sisters, Louise, Charlotte, and Péronne. Of these three sisters, only Charlotte de Pisseleu knew about the substitution as she was the only daughter still unmarried and residing in Picardy. She was younger than Anne and her marriage contract was still under negotiations. Louise de Pisseleu married François de Bretagne-Avaugour and Péronne de Pisseleu married Michel de Barbancon, sieur de Canny many years ago.

Aside from sisters, she now also had three brothers, Adrien, Charles and Francois. Adrien de Pisseleu is the heir to the d'Heilly estate and is married to Charlotte d'Ailly. He had gone to Court in 1531 and remained largely unaware that his true sister had already passed away. Francois and Charles knew the situation as they lived in the same household, but Guillaume had never explained who Anne truly was or why she had assumed their deceased sister's name. Nevertheless, she knew that they had their suspicions, albeit she doubted that they would ever guess her true identity without being told.

Guillaume was a gentle man and treated her like a true daughter. For her and the family's protection, he had replaced more than half of his household's servants, ensuring those remaining were absolutely loyal to their master and would not dream of uttering a word about the situation. He had made his children who were aware of the situation swear that they would not utter a word. However, her relationship with her new siblings was not all sunshine and daisies. Anne had the distinct feeling that Charlotte and Francois did not like her at all. They treated her often with cold indifference, although every once in awhile, Charlotte would make a biting remark. She was comforted by Charles de Pisseleu though. He was the youngest of the brothers and reminded her much of George in his mischievous days.

George... She wished that he had been the one that was rescued but that had not been a possibility. There would have been no time to set up a rescue. From the end of the trial, the execution of the four men proceeded at an alarming rate. She owed her own rescue to her son. If not for the fact that she was pregnant with William, she would have been executed only days after them. His existence bought much needed time for his grandfather to put a plan in action, a plan that gave Anne a second chance at life. She now had a new family, a new name and a new place to call home.

Her new home, Picardy, was not like, Paris or London, both of majestic excellence. Life here was quieter, and after everything she had been through, it was a good place to rest and to hide from her past.

She enjoyed taking strolls through the woods. It was a place that allowed her to think and a place that allowed her temporary relief from the painful memories. Her new 'father' often warned her against wandering out alone in times of war, but the solitude was something that she desperately craved. Often she just walked here unconsciously.

In the center of the woods was a small clearing of green grass and a small clear pond. It had a simplistic beauty to it and this was her place of solace. She enjoyed the silence that was only interrupted by the chirping of the birds. However, today, her solitude was intruded upon by a man, dirty and unshaven. He stumbled into her view and grabbed her arm tightly before she had even made an attempt to run away.

The fright he caused her made Anne scream bloody murder as she used her other arm to frantically beat at the man's chest. Her high pitched scream and beating seemed to stun the man as his grip loosened. Quickly she jerked her arm from his grasps. As she turned to run away, she saw from the corner of her eyes that his legs seemed to give out and his head met the ground with loud thump.

The action caused her to pause. Her fears slowly subsided and her curiosity peaked. Surely her violence against him had not been enough for him to fall to the ground. When she had been a little girl, her father had always scolded her for being too curious. She could almost hear him now, scolding her to mind her own business and hurry back to civilization. Yet, she could not help it. She could see now that this man was injured. There was dried blood on his cloths. There was also a sense of familiarity about him. Had she met him in France before?

With the fear and surprise mostly gone, she inched closer to the still figure. He appeared to have lost consciousness. So she took the opportunity to step even closer, wanting to get a good look at his face. She could make out aristocratic features underneath all the soot and dried blood. She moved down to examine his cloth. Although also covered with dirt and blood, there was no doubt that they were of a very fine quality. Clearly, this man was no peasant.

She wondered who he was. Was he some noble man lost from Paris? Her gut was now distinctively telling her that she knew this man from before. She contemplated her choices. The man needed help that much was clear. However, could she risk him recognizing her? Not to mention, what if her gut was wrong? What if he was not of French nobility but a dangerous criminal on the run? There was also the fact that no matter whom he was, could she really walk away from an injured man when her actions could save his life?

It didn't take long for her to make up her mind.

She studied his body. There was no sign of active bleeding, but she knew that he needed a physician. Would she be able to find one with Picardy in such disarray? Perhaps she could rouse him, before she went in search of a doctor. At least he would know that help was coming, and perhaps even hide himself in case his enemies were not far behind for she knew she could not move the unconscious man herself.

Walking to the pond she pulled her handkerchief out. She dipped it into the cool water, letting the water soak it completely. Then she brought the wet and dripping cloth to rest above the man's face, letting the cold water splash onto his flesh. The cold water seemed to be enough of a shock to rouse the man slightly as he stirred. His voice was raspy and strained as he muttered, "water," without bothering to open his eyes. Anne quickly returned to the pond, dipping the small cloth in the water again. This time she brought the soaked cloth to the man's lips, letting the cool liquid slip into his mouth.

She had to repeat her action several times before the man finally opened his eyes. They locked with hers and suddenly his face turned to confusion, "Anne Boleyn?"

Anne felt her heart skip a beat. Fear, horror, and anxiety suddenly crept up to her. She felt her throat go dry, her stomach turned to knots and her heart raced. Her eyes took in the man again. The water had washed away some of the soot away, and this time, despite being unshaven, she recognized him. She felt stupid not recognizing him before; after all she had spent many years in his court. Even worse, she could only internally cringe at the fact that she had just physically assaulted a King mere minutes ago in her fright.

She drew back slowly as he pushed himself into a sitting position, his eyes not leaving her face.

She forced herself to breathe and to calm down as her thought flew rapidly. What would anyone other than Anne Boleyn do in this situation?

Her face turned to confusion as well, mirroring that of the man, "Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly." Her voice was shaky at best but the words came out in flawless French.

King Francis I of France only blinked in response.

_**To be continued…**_

* * *

**Author's Notes: **

If you read the original story, hopefully you noticed the foundation of several large changes that would be taking place (Just to name a few: name changes, new characters, and most importantly a subtle change in Henry's attitude and feelings). I pretty much re-wrote this entire chapter, and apparently more than doubled it too. (And I just want to point out that although it took forever, I found some of the names of Anne de Pisseleu's living siblings and their spouses).

Scene written in italicized font is taken from the TUDORS.

Instead of writing a long list of changes I made from history, I will just say that this story will take many historical liberties. I do tend to use historical characters as foundation though.

If you have any questions feel free to leave it in a review or PM, and I will answer to the best of my ability.

I am aiming for bimonthly updates, but I also don't want to rush the quality. Story status will always be in my profile. I think by chapter 3 to 4, this will be nearly a completely different story but with the same foundation. Original Nemesis will be deleted when chapter 2 comes out.

**Leave a review if you liked the chapter and/or look forward to next!**

Thanks for Reading and the Support!

Cruelangel


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